The Role Players
by HarryPotHead
Summary: What if the only reason there is no real magic in the world anymore is because someone took it away? What if magic came back and opened up worlds that noone could understand? What if the only people who could understand those worlds, were the ones who liv
1. Prologue

**A/N** New kinda story bit of a twist to my regular stuff, but bear with me, I've kinda lost interest in Harry Potter, just wait till the summer and I read the book and then you'll tget twenty chapters ok?

Disclaimer I own none of the names trademarked by Wizards of the Coast but this is my idea and I have no recollection of anyone telling this story before me. If anyone does please e-mail me.

**Prologue.**

Five stories below ground level, underneath what seemed to be a peaceful country manor park, in a dark room filled with darkened monitors sat a lone figure staring at the monitors and apparently nothing.

_Apparently Nothing? _The figure chuckled to himself recalling the way these monitors had been described to him ten years ago, "Manifestations of exactly what we need, that's the way it works. They're energy as far as we can tell, but there's no signature to them that we can read with any technology we've got. According to leading scientists, they're apparently nothing…" he smiled coolly as he stared intent at the monitors. They did really just hang there, holding no mass, no colour, no smell, but they were definitely there, just visible to the eye.

_You may be 'apparently nothing' but you do show something don't you? _They were hooked up to other more tangible manifestations a few floors down, they being the reason he was sat there intently, just waiting for a glimmer. Their controllers held the screens black for long periods of time, sometimes weeks on end, but every now and then a face would flicker across one of them. He sat here now because he was waiting for a certain group of faces; one in particular, to show up, thus provingthe feeling deep in his gut. He had been waiting ever since he was put in command of this facility twenty years ago, his appointment to 'Overseer.' Unknown to his superiors he had known about this 'Global Secret' for a lot longer than that, and through no easy means had engineered his own position as head of it. Also unknown to his superiors were his real reasons for doing so, but they would come to fruition soon, all he needed was a glimmer. His immediate desire was to see that group of faces on the screens; he could feel it in his bones that they would show up. Once they appeared he could lend more of his attentions to his own ultimate goal, but he needed those faces. He knew the controllers needed certain proximity to be able to predict but surely…

There came a hurried knocking at the door but there was no time for enquiry as the door was pushed open by the last knock. The last person who had dared to disturb the Overseer, had found themselves working volcano duty when Etna last went up in 1992. _Either you have a wish to be sent to a cold mountain in hell or_... Fortunately the latter thought was not needed as it was already proved true when his second in command and trusted brother swung into view in front of him.

"Overseer! I have the reports from our advanced psi-scouts. The 'Marks' you told us to watch out for sir, their compatibility ratings are through the roof sir!" he stopped for breath looking a little blue in the face but his superior was no longer looking at him, nor sitting down. He was stood, a good head above his subordinate staring straight at the middle bank of screens. There the middle six screens were sparking to life like a television with bad reception. But through the interference and white noise came six faces. Smiling he looked back down at his second in command.

"I know…"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1.**

'_Your running away from me, why are you running away from me?' he kept running his legs and sword beginning to feel heavy, but she couldn't be feeling any better, and this chase had gone on for long enough. All he wanted to do right now was take her in his arms and kiss her. True she was far away and all he could see was a silhouette, but he was faster than her, he knew would catch up. What came next caught him off guard though, as she spread her angel wings and took flight. 'Ha!' he thought to himself, 'I'm in a dream, well…' instantly he was sat in a plane, economy class, so strange to him now. But it was too loud, everyone was screaming, and the plane was shaking too. He looked around for her and saw her sitting across the aisle from him also screaming. He reached out his hand to calm her down when it happened. The plane stopped with a crash but the sound that followed chilled him to the bone. A slow roar began to build up and rush through the plane at them. As he turned he saw the cause. A wall of fire slowly consumed the entire plane, moving through the aisles leaving nothing intact, just before it reached their aisle he looked back, at a burning corpse…' _

He awoke with a start that sent him to the floor of the cabin hard. Wincing in pain for a moment he deliberated whether the waking world was actually any better than the nightmare one he had left in such a hurry. This decision was made all the harder by the half eaten, growth ridden sandwich he could now see stuffed under the chair he had just fallen off. He got up sickened yanked it out and threw it through the window before slumping back into the padding of the seat. He wished for the hundredth time, that next time he would wake himself somehow next time he had that dream, but he may as well have wished never to sleep and he knew it. He pulled out his water bottle and splashed copious amounts of water over his face. He then opened all the windows and the let makeshift wind tunnel almost freeze the water on his skin. _That'll keep me awake,_ he thought to himself as put his feet up and relaxed again, his head lolling to one side. From this angle he could just catch his reflection in the little bit of window visible.

Richard Bryant did not look good, the water having done nothing to freshen him up at all. Some said he never looked good on account of his ginger hair which he religiously gave a buzz cut, but those people had greasy hair so what did they know? Others said he was just plain ugly, and he would have agreed except then others would shout at him. But one thing was for certain to even his fans, he did not look good having just woken up.

He was sure of this as for a 26 year old to look like a pensioner, there had to be something wrong somewhere. He brushed his hand slowly over his hair, soothing his rising head ache and quickly cleared his squint nose, squint form having been broken so many times and the doctors not setting it quite right. He had tried to tell people too that "it's so big cos the swelling won't go down between breaks" but no one ever believed him. Probably because he hadn't had it broken in over 6 years but he didn't give his circle of friends that much credit when it came to brain power. _You gotta admit though, _he smiled crookedly looking at his own reflection, _my body looks good. _He moved to see himself in another window and looked at his tight formed chest and arms. Built from countless hours of fitness training, swimming and martial arts, he was not a mass of muscle, more an understated machine, toned to almost perfection, and a lot stronger than he looked. With nothing to do for a year all he had done was train, all day everyday, eating only what he need to and talking to people only when he felt himself losing grip of reality. He had needed nothing else but her…

He pushed the thought out of his head straight away but was drawn back to it by the paintings adorning his body. It had all started with a back tattoo a long time ago, that he wanted to have extended into tribal angel wings going down his back. After his loss though, the idea of angels disturbed him and he stopped. He only started again when he wanted to experience pain. A little bit at a time, but always a symmetrical pair of tribal feathers or markings. The practice had confused his friends greatly.

"Another two feathers Bry?" Jason had asked Bry's back as he meditated in his training room after a rigorous hour of Capoeira; the Brazilian dance which could be adapted into a fighting style. Bry's sweat ran down the cracks in his spasming muscles as he slowed down his heart rate but strangely he welcomed the pain when it seeped into the new tattoo. He got up when his heart rate was sufficiently slowed and turned to see Jason in the doorway leaning on his kendo stick, fully padded up.

"What of it? Free country innit?" Jason looked stung by the abruptness conveyed in Bry's tone but he didn't care, Jason was prying again and as a friend he should have known better by now. That day though Bry felt compelled to give Jason another answer, a lengthier explanation, "You remember I once said that havin' a tattoo was one of the most painful things I've ever been through?" Jason nodded, "Well something else happened that I'm sure you remember too," Bry didn't let the painful memories break his stride as he crossed to the opposite wall and plucked a Kendo stick from it's braces, "Well sometimes I find myself forgetting a little more about what happened, letting it slip into obscurity just a little. I never wanna let it go, so when I feel myself doing just that, I hurt myself just a little to remind myself of where I am and what happened," he took up his fighting stance in front of Jason, "Satisfied?" Jason eyed him over with a smile.

"Perfectly, but I'm not fighting you with no pads on. You can hurt yourself all you want but I'm not gonna help you fulfil this masochistic tendency you've got."

"That's okay; I don't intend to let you either…"

Bry allowed himself a sly smile at the memory as he checked the weapons and armour on the seat across from him. He found himself doing that more freely these days, smiling coming back to him. _Is a year long enough?_ He frequently found himself wondering as the days passed by, especially leading up to this day. _Am I to forever deny myself smiling and laughing?_ It was this self doubt in the path he had chosen for himself that had allowed his friends to convince him to join him on this little jaunt. He had not made this trip for over a year, refusing to go with them last year on account of what had happened a few days beforehand, on account of the empty passenger seat there would have been. He felt the familiar sharp turn as he approached his destination, not even looking up, he knew he was close to the drop-off. As his ride began to slow he stared up at the ceiling of the cabin and closed his eyes, _Goddess help me…_

A figure stepped out of the darkness of his cabin pulling his kit behind him and onto his back. The swords bunched at the bottom and knocked against his legs but it was okay, they weren't that heavy. He stretched his arms wide, his back needing a good click after having been cramped in that tight space for so long. He looked around him for a little while too, his eyes once again becoming accustomed to things far away and bright, he had been staring at parchment all the way here, making alterations in dim light. But now, as he breathed in the crisp clean country air, and took in his surroundings Jason Middleton let a wide sloppy grin spread across his face unhindered. The tents, the camps, the men women and children milling about in peasant clothes and armour, he was here. Finally after this year of preparation, this would be Jason's year, The Gathering 1110, or 2010 as it was in real life. The Gathering was the largest live role-playing event in Britain and Jason's home away from home. He turned to close his door and caught his reflection in the mirror.

_Nows as good a time as any to kit up, _he unslung his pack and got to work. First came the dull grey metal chest and back plates connected over his shoulders by leather straps and under his arms by a metal belt. This went over his skin tight black long sleeve t-shirt that stretched around his carved musculature. It fell to his waist and was clasped to his thick metal belt from which was draped a long black and red sash, which fell between the legs. To adorn the body armour came a wide mantle and neck guard, black and red plated intermittently around the shoulders. The helmet he would put on later, he still wished to bask in the midday sun for a while. As he buckled his belt; full of half scabbards and pouches, around his centre he smiled to find it fit better than last year. Physical training with Bry had changed his physique somewhat over the past year as it had them all.

Jason had always carried an imposing figure before, at six foot three, he was a bear of a man, but some of that had still been puppy fat, now though it was all pure chiselled muscle, thanks to the trainers employed by Bry over the past year to get their troupe into shape. Jason had no qualms at all about the training regime, though he had rung in sick at the hospital a few times so to not have to explain the black eyes and massive welts left by some of the more aggressive training practices. All in all he reckoned that he made the strangest looking nurse in the world.

He was your typical biker, big and burly, when he wasn't wearing the glasses, and had a stare that could stop any man dead in his tracks. But his friends knew he was a teddy bear, and also knew exactly how far they could push him before really having to run to the hills. He still made quite a strange sight walking around in his pressed white tunic, taking old ladies beverages and comforting bereaved relatives. But that had been his calling and nothing fulfilled him more than bringing a piece of happiness to an unhappy life. He put his swords into the preordained scabbards as their rides began to pull off in convoy. He looked after them until his eyes happened upon Bry walking down the line towards him. Jason had to do a double take to realise Bry was laughing. Jason didn't want to get sentimental or mushy or anything like that, but not having heard that sound in a year, he felt tears swell in his eyes; it was like the sweetest music he had ever heard.

_I knew it!_ he thought to himself as he and Bry exchanged joyous glances and put their hands on each others shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze before turning towards camp, _He's home…_

Bry brought the blades swinging around his head and up in front of the shop keep in a cross. In a swift motion he batted the shopkeepers own sword out of the way and had him at both ends, one sword intent on slicing his crotch and the other ready to decapitate. The black blades glistened in the sunlight breaking through under the shop awning, making them look all the more deadly. But these swords could do no harm any more than a blade of grass. This was a role-playing event and as such the swords were comprised of a 38 inch long carbon fibre core which was then surrounded by thick foam and coated with coloured latex. From more than a few feet away though, they resembled the real thing and looked very deadly. The pair Bry was considering purchasing today were of a dark elven design, long swords; but with the look of daggers, large hilts in comparison to the length of the blade and a wider head giving them a more menacing almost sabre like look. He was very happy with his find, a perfect pair and simple in their beauty, he wanted to snap them up, but he had got quite good at this game. He took the swords away for the shop keep and motioned to put them down before cocking his head back up.

"How much did you say they were again?" the shop keepers face flushed red with anger, Bry had already asked this question three times, but this was the clincher. The shop keeper threw his hands up in the air and resigned to his fate.

"FINE! Fine, I'll knock 15 percent off if you just take them and get out of my shop!" Bry smiled to himself. The old plan worked every time, spend an hour in the shop looking at the same weapon or weapons, then goad the shop keeper into sparring with you while asking the price over and over again. Annoy the hell out of the guy while making it seem as if the swords really should be yours and no one else's. Bry's grin widened as he handed over the money and slotted the swords into his scabbards. They slid in with no resistance at all, as if made specifically for the holders.

As Bry stepped form under the awning and into the sunlight he had a decidedly bigger spring in his step. He approached Jason with a flash of his pearly white teeth, striking Jason dumb.

"What?" Bry was not sure whether it had anything to do with his smile or his new swords but all inquiries were wiped from his mind as he was stopped short by the scene of horror unfolding before him. Without a second thought he dove for the archers shop, Arrowkraft.

"NOOOO!" His scream stopped the two men in front of him short, one with money in outstretched hand, the other with a crossbow in his. They looked at Bry startled and waited him to calm down and explain. Finally clearing his throat and putting on his most charming smile, he started his bartering, "Dude, you can't buy that," the boy wheeled on him, obviously unimpressed by the someone coming between him and his new crossbow. As he turned, his mouth began what could only have been an expletive but was frozen open as his eyes came around to focus on Bry's chest. Bry had found always that when he slouched he was considered short and unassuming, but when he stood straight and wore his boots he was quite intimidating. It also helped that this boy was quite short also, no more than sixteen, younger than even Bry had been when he first arrived at the gathering all those years ago. As he gazed up at Bry's face he broke into a rant to confuse and bewilder the boy, "You can not possibly purchase that crossbow, it is not fitting of a young warrior of your obvious strength and stature," Bry was lying of course, he merely wanted it for himself, had done for years. It was a double crossbow, one bolt fired from the top one from the bottom. As crossbow bolts negated armour and in the Gathering game system you could only ever have two hit points without armour, it was a perfect weapon for his secondary role as High Assassin of the Jackals, "Someone of your obvious dexterity and grace, would be better equipped with a longbow, surely?" he looked hopefully at the prospective buyer.

He looked intimidated by the group slowly gathering around Bry. They all wore the same armour; that of the Cult of Sutekh, and this boy seemed to know of them.

"Your… Your…"

"Yes, Sword of Sutekh at your service, and this is the Cult of Sutekh, I presume you have heard of us?" asked Bry wondering to himself if that had sounded overly arrogant.

"FUCK YEAH! This is my second year but me and my friends heard of you on the first day of last year, you guys are legends!"

_Ahhh a fan, excellent, _this was going to be easier than Bry had originally thought.

"If you would allow me to purchase this crossbow instead then I promise you and your friend's entry to the Cult of Sutekh free of charge," he knew this was an offer the boy would not give up easily. For a few years now the Cult of Sutekh had offered great benefits to anyone wishing to join them. Bry took a dagger from his belt, short but beautifully ordained with an onyx like handle, reflecting the blackness of the stone like blade, "present this at the Jackal gates and I promise you a life of riches and glory," he smiled back at Jason who nodded in agreement and then looked back at the boy, "What do you say…?"

"Ash," the boy ventured in wonder as he took the dagger from Bry, "my name is Ash," he turned the dagger over in his hands his smile growing wider. Looking up still in shock he stuffed his money back in his pocket and with a quick smile at them all, ran off to meet a large group coming out of the costume shop. Bry ignored them and looked up at the shopkeeper. The glint in the shopkeeper's eye showed that he remembered Bry form years back. Without a word he retrieved 10 padded crossbow bolts from the box on the floor next to him and placed them in a bolt belt. Wrapping the belt around the crossbow he presented them to Bry who smiled graciously.

"That'll be one hundred and fifty mate," the shop keeper ventured and was not even phased by the wad of notes that Bry took form his pocket. Bry's good fortune a year ago was obviously not a secret in the game system. After the exchange was through Bry turned to Jason who was smiling back at him knowingly.

"You know we have to kill him now right?" Jason nodded towards the boy who was passing the dagger around all his friends, who every once in a while looked over. Bry was however lost in the awe of finally owning the crossbow.

_Finally, _Bry thought as he notched two arrows, one on top one held on the bottom. He brought the bow to his face, smelling the fresh varnish and tightening his grip around the suede handle. The triggers, one under his index finger, the other nestled under his pinkie felt tight as he gave them a testing squeeze. All he needed now was his first target. By all rights they should have been headed straight for camp, but he needed to fire it first, he needed virgin blood. It was then that he noticed Jason looking at him expectantly.

"What… Oh yes sorry. Of course he must die, he stole a dagger of Sutekh, a crime that carries the ultimate penalty," He scanned the horizon searching for his target. Ash's group was walking across his view now; about thirty feet away, their joy at being accepted into the Cult of Sutekh evident as they seemed completely oblivious as Bry raised the crossbow to aim at Ash, _They'd never have survived us anyway... but wait,_ Bry raised the crossbow away, no longer aiming at the group. He watched Jason shift uncomfortably as they got further and further away from them. When they were out of reach Jason turned confused.

"You wanna explain that to me?" Bry nodded off in front where Leon stood about twenty feet away. Bry had noticed hi earlier flirting quite openly with a girl he had met here last year. Even though he had heard the reports of the conquests of this year gone, Leon still maintained that this girl was the girl of his dreams. Bry had to say though that Leon's taste's left a lot to be desired. But then again so did the tastes of the girl's boyfriend. He was there now, grabbing Leon by the scruff of his clothes as Leon tried in vain to calm him down. Bry smiled and levelled the crossbow again rotating his wrist slightly so the bolts were diagonal instead of on top of each other. Taking last aim he pulled the trigger.

From twenty feet away the padded bolts hit with 25lbs of force, five less than it exerts form point blank. Still it was enough to cause damage. The topmost bolt struck the boyfriends inner elbow of his extended arm, the arm which was holding Leon and caused it to buckle allowing his release. The other arrow struck the back of the boy's knee which also caused that to buckle, putting him flat on his back. By the time the boy recovered and propped himself up on one arm, Bry and Jason stood over him swords to his throat. They had long ago written a rule for what happened to people who attacked one of the followers of Sutekh unprovoked, but this was not entirely the case in this instance.

"Walk away…" was all Bry whispered to the boy as he lay prone, eyes flitting between Bry, Jason and Leon. His girlfriend got the message even as he seemed to ignore it and started to drag him away. When they were far enough away Bry stopped following them with his eyes and instead turned his gaze to Leon who was still looking after them beaming; one of those 'WE RULE!' looks on his face. Bry wiped it off in a second. Entirely without grace Bry clasped both hands around the hilt of his weapon and brought it crashing down on the back of Leon's head. Leon was not at all impressed.

"AAAAHHHHHHH FUCK! What the fuck was that for?" he screamed, but Bry was too weak to talk, he had begun laughing so hard that Jason also laughing supported them both. Jeremy also laughed out loud with Pugh and Owain, and repeatedly smacked Leon across the back of the head as they began to chase him towards camp. Bry dried his watering eyes and took his weight off Jason, just as Jason turned to him. He had a look in his eyes that Bry remembered well, it normally appeared when Jason was drunk and was about to tell you he loved you. But Jason was not drunk this time. He wiped his eyes and snivelled a little as he placed a hand on Bry's shoulder.

"It's good to hear you laughing freely Bry," Bry could see Jason's eyes welling up with tears and could feel his own following suit. Bry could never repay Jason for his kindness, but he could make a start.

"Every instance of laughter is for every moment you've stood by me when I told you to go. Thanks Jas, I'll never forget it," He hugged Jason hard but then broke away, and sliced at him with his weapon. He let out a hearty laugh, "Come Gian Clannad, Master at Arms of Sutekh. Best me if you can!" Jason was about to draw his sword when he looked passed Bry into the distance. Bry; knowing that Jason was above such petty trickery, turned to follow his gaze safe in the knowledge that he would not be stabbed in the back. He saw two members of the Cult of Sutekh running towards them, apparently in a hurry. From the variations in their armour to his own Bry instantly recognised them as the small group they had given as a gift to the Jackal high command for the safe passage of messages. Their missions; if ambushed by impossible forces included them taking their own lives, which all of the Cult did freely for Sutekh. Their message now though seemed to be bad news.

"My Lords!" they both said in perfect unison, they had probably been practising quietly all the way from camp. They both knelt as was the custom in the Cult when addressing royalty such as they, "We have an urgent message from Jackal high command." Bry watched smiling as Jason's chest puffed out a little, a sure sign of him falling comfortably into character.

"Obviously fool, who else would the message be from? Lloth maybe?" the messenger looked up at Jason confused as to whether it was an actual question or a rhetorical one, but upon seeing Jason's smile he understood the game, "Well come on fool out with it!" Bry somehow sensed though that what he was about to say would have dire effects for the immediate future.

"Lord Estoban requests your presence quickly, my lords, there is much to discuss," the second messenger said blurting it out and stealing a sorrowful glance at Bry, _Dire effects for my immediate future? _The messenger let out a huge sigh as if hauling a huge weight off his back and spilling it out in front of them, "Most importantly sir, the arrangements for the Lady Gaia's funeral…" the messenger let the words hang, he knew better than to interrupt this moment. Bry stood fast as if he had been drained of all life, his stony gaze took in the top of the boy's head as he imagined caving it in, _I haven't thought about her since we arrived. How could I do that to her? I'm disgusting, I'm…_ He began a slow walk to camp, his body on autopilot, he walked through the messengers and struck their bodies to the floor, _How could I forget? _His hand toyed with the real knife in his pocket, as he wondered which part of his body he should drive it into…

Jason looked after Bry tears running freely now, but there were no sounds from him; only a stony silence, in grieving for a spirit he had watched die for the second time, _No more laughter…_


End file.
